


Can't Let This Get Away

by sabaceanbabe



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-02
Updated: 2010-02-02
Packaged: 2017-10-06 23:50:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/59063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sabaceanbabe/pseuds/sabaceanbabe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>She smelled of the swill she and Tigh downed on a regular basis, since they'd gotten back to <i>Galactica</i>, and Sam was sick of it.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Can't Let This Get Away

"What the hell'd you do to your hair?"

"What does it look like I did to it, genius?"

Kara's sarcasm stung, but then everything about her was caustic, these days. On the one hand, Sam couldn't blame her – she'd been through hell on New Caprica. On the other hand, though…

What gave her the right to be such a frakkin' bitch to everyone? New Cap was weeks behind them and still she pushed everyone away. Sam could sort of understand her not wanting to be near him or even look at him after she'd been held by that skinjob for months. It was obvious the sonofabitch had frakked with her head. _And what else, Sammy? What else did he frak with? Hmm?_

"Wow, Sam, I didn't think that was such a stumper." Kara pushed past him with enough force to knock him back into a bulkhead, except that he was expecting it and sidestepped.

She smelled of the swill she and Tigh downed on a regular basis, since they'd gotten back to _Galactica_, and Sam was sick of it. Sick of the booze, sick of the attitude, sick of having his feelings thrown back in his face for no other reason than the fact that she could. _Those feelings terrify her, Sam, that someone could care that much for world-class frak up Kara Thrace._

But he didn't want to listen to the part of him that understood.

"Frakkin' bitch," he said, loud enough for Kara to hear him, and then he turned his back on her and headed gods knew where, just away. She wanted him gone? Frak her. He was outta here. He reached up to grab the chain around his neck, but then remembered that he'd already returned the dog tag so he couldn't throw it at her now.

He felt her fingers dig in as she slammed into the center of his back and he crashed into that bulkhead he'd avoided earlier.

"Don't you call me 'bitch!'"

Green eyes blazing and skin flushed from her hairline to below her tanks, Kara was as angry as Sam had ever seen her and it suddenly occurred to him that her now-short hair was so shaggy because she'd cut it with the knife she'd taken to wearing strapped to her leg. He thought she might try to use it on him.

Not willing to give even a centimeter, Sam just leaned back against the bulkhead into which she'd shoved him, crossed his arms over his chest, and gave her a lazy smile. "Stop acting like one and I'll stop calling you on it."

Movement drew his eyes as he saw that she reflexively formed and unformed fists, wanting to hit something – him – and yet restraining herself. He quashed a surge of hope.

Finally, she relaxed her jaw enough to spit out, "You have no idea, Sam…" but then she bit off the rest, leaving him hanging.

Sam pushed away from the bulkhead and took a step toward her. "I have no idea." He nodded. "You're right there, Kara. So why don't you give me a clue?" Kara stared at him, eyes wide, something like panic reflected in them for an instant, but she said nothing and Sam nodded again. "Fine."

Gods, he was so tired. All he wanted was to find a court somewhere and shoot a few balls without anyone around. No sound but that of leather-wrapped rubber rattling into metal before bouncing back into his hand, no smell of recycled air, just a light breeze, maybe a hint of rain in the air.

Still Kara stared at him, somehow looking smaller than she really was, looking almost fragile without that spark of anger that had been in her eyes for so long now.

"Why'd you cut your hair, Kara?" Sam asked, but she didn't answer and he closed his eyes for a second, thunked a fist into his thigh and looked at her again.

He studied her for a moment, his beautiful wife, the only woman he'd ever wanted to spend the rest of his life with, however long or short that might be. He missed her smile. He missed her laughter. He missed _her_.

"New Caprica is over, Kara. It's over."

And still she said nothing. Sam turned again. He couldn't keep pounding his head into a brick wall. Or a metal bulkhead. He took half a dozen steps before her voice stopped him.

"It's not over, Sam."

He didn't turn around, started walking again. "I'll see you around, Kara."

"It's not over," she repeated, little more than a whisper.

And the hope he'd locked down a few minutes ago surged anew. The sound of her voice had changed and he knew, not a doubt in his mind, that she wasn't referring to New Cap.


End file.
